


The Snow's Captives

by SargentMom573



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Cabin Fic, Caretaker Dean, M/M, Sick Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 06:00:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13001352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SargentMom573/pseuds/SargentMom573
Summary: Dean was not going to make it alive down the mountain in a week’s time. Why? Because Cas was going to kill him, that’s why.





	The Snow's Captives

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 13 of the Advent Calendar for the Facebook Group Destiel Nanowrimo.

Dean had learned three things in the last three days.

Number one, never ever believe a word Gabriel Novak had to say. Ever. 

He made the mistake of believing Gabriel which is why he was in his present situation. “It’ll be fun, Deano,” Gabriel said. “Fishing and hiking and all those manly pursuits.” 

Fishing and hiking and all those manly pursuits, his frozen nuts. 

The only reason he had dared to venture out into blizzard in the last three days was to get more firewood. That’s it. 

He’d driven up to the Novak cabin in the middle of nowhere Colorado when the first flurries were beginning to fall from the sky. And the snowfall had just gotten heavier and heavier until he couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face.

If he hadn’t had the forethought of tying himself to the back porch with a thick rope, he would have been lost on his way to the woodpile at the back of the cabin.

Number two, Castiel Novak was nothing like his brother Gabriel.

“What are you doing here?” The gorgeous blue-eyed man had demanded in a voice that raked deliciously across his nerves and could only be classified as a bedroom voice when Dean had opened the door to find the cabin he’d been told was almost never used already occupied.

“What do you mean, what am I doing here? What are you doing here?” Dean had thought his question quite intelligent. 

Gabriel and Sam had both assured him that he wouldn’t have to deal with anyone on his vacation. Hence, the remote Novak cabin in the wilds of Colorado. 

“Who are you?” The man had questioning down to an art form but Dean was no slouch. After all, he’d grown up with Sammy who had wanted to be a lawyer since he could talk. 

“Who are you?”

The man raked his fingers through his dark hair, and sighed. “I am Castiel Novak,” he finally said. “This is my cabin, and you are trespassing.”

Ah, fuck. He was fucking going to kill Gabriel. He knew about Castiel, of course. He was some kind of genius strategist and worked for the FBI or the CIA from what Sam and Gabriel had told him. Of course, they had both forgotten to mention that the guy had the bluest eyes.

And then the day had deteriorated from there. There was only the one bed and Dean was not going to share it with a strange man. Shut up, Sam. He had standards and while Cas pushed all the right buttons for him physically, the guy was a terror to live with.

Number three, Dean was not going to make it alive down the mountain in a week’s time. Why? Because Cas was going to kill him, that’s why.

Dean first had an inkling that something was wrong when it was nearly noon on the fourth day of their snowy imprisonment and Cas hadn’t made an appearance. He’d only known the guy three days but Cas’ schedule was imprinted on his brain. 

The guy left his room about nine in the morning to make his sleepy way to the desk and the laptop he’d placed there. He sat there for about half an hour and drank about three gallons of coffee while he looked out the window at the accumulating snow. 

At nine-thirty he went to the bathroom and did his business. 

At ten he returned to the desk dressed in slacks and a button down and opened up his laptop. He worked until noon when he took a ten minute break to eat a sandwich. He returned to his desk and continued working until two when he made another sandwich. He took ten minute breaks about every two hours throughout the day until he stopped working at eight for the night. 

That has been Cas’ schedule for the last three days and he has only varied in the deadpan snarky comments he made once in a while to Dean. 

However, on the fourth day of their snowy captivity Cas was a no-show. The blizzard had finally stopped sometime last night, the sun was shining bright and the drip-drip of snow and ice melting could be heard over the silence of the mountainside. Dean hadn’t see hide nor hair of Cas all morning.

He was not worried. 

He knocked gently on the bedroom door, not wanting to disturb the bear that Cas could be before he had his first three cups of coffee, and when he didn’t hear anything from the other side of the door, he turned the knob and carefully looked into the room. 

There was nothing to see except the thicket of Cas’ unruly dark brown hair. Cas was completely covered by the thick comforter on the bed. 

Dean opened the door further, the cold air rushing out of the room to hit him in the face. 

“Cas,” he called, but there was no reply from the lump on the bed. He moved closer to the bed and all he could still see was the man’s hair peaking over the top of the blankets. 

“Cas,” he carefully shook the shoulder closest to him but Cas just groaned. 

Dean moved closer and gently pulled off the covers from Cas’ head. Cas was apparently sleeping on his stomach because all he could still see was only his hair.

Dean gingerly placed his fingers on Cas’ nape, the only skin he could see and nearly jerked them off when the heat hit his fingers.

Cas groaned something else and pulled the covers back over his head again. 

Fuck.

Cas was definitely sick. 

Dean headed back to their shared bathroom to check the medicine cabinet. He didn’t bring any fever relief medicine with him. 

He pulled open the mirrored door of the medicine cabinet to be faced with empty shelves. He crouched to check the cabinet under the sink but that only revealed toilet paper and toilet bowl cleaner. 

He’d already looked through the kitchen cupboards once before when he checked to see what they had in them before he added the groceries he’d brought with him. He hadn’t seen any medicine that he could use for Cas but he searched through them again just in case he missed anything. 

He didn’t.

However, he had bought some chicken. He tossed the chicken into a pot with some water, salt and herbs, and turned on the stove. The broth might be the only thing Cas might be able to keep down for a while. 

While the chicken cooked, he looked through Cas’ groceries again but it was no use. Cas didn’t bring anything he could use in the broth. 

Next he looked for a portable heater. While the fireplace was doing a decent job keeping the cabin warm, Cas would need more heat and he didn’t want to be sweltering in the meantime. He finally found an electric one in the front closet. 

He took it back to Cas’ bedroom and gently opened the door but Cas was as unresponsive as before. He plugged it in and set it up so that it blew hot air towards the bed. 

He returned to the front closet and dug out the extra blankets he’d seen there during his search for the space heater, stopped by the living room to drag all but the thickest comforter from his bed/couch and took them all back to Cas’ room where he proceeded to layer them on Cas one at a time. 

That done he headed back to the kitchen to check on the chicken broth. Since it had already come to a boil, he set his cell phone to alert him in an hour and a half and set it to a simmer. There wasn’t anything he could do for Cas until the broth was ready so he pulled out some ingredients to make himself a Dagwood sandwich. He ate it at the counter with a small bag of potato chips and washed it all down with a beer. 

After lunch he bundled up and headed to the woodpile. With the sun shining he didn’t have to tie himself to the back porch. Soon he had a sizeable stack of firewood right at the back door.

He checked on the generator as well. Just because the electric was still on, didn’t mean it wouldn’t go out at any given time. The generator had a full tank and there was extra cans of diesel that would last them at least a week if they needed it.

The day was beautiful and he didn’t want to go back inside. Cabin fever was definitely a thing. 

He made sure to scrape off as much of the snow from his boots but he still left behind small patches of snow and water as he walked into the house. He checked on Cas but there was no movement from the bed, so he left the door ajar and headed to the front porch. 

When he’d driven up he’d noticed a path that went west of the cabin. Now would be a good time to see what that path lead to. 

“I’m sorry, Baby.” There was no shelter for Baby and she had at least a foot of snow accumulated on her since yesterday. He took the time to dust her off before he headed down the path. 

While it was treacherous going since the snow obscured the path, the view was definitely worth the trek. The snow made the whole mountain gleam in the sunlight and dampened most of the sound. Silence was something he hadn’t experienced in almost three years and it soothed his soul. 

He didn’t know how long he stood there just soaking in the quiet but soon the alarm on his cell phone started beeping and he headed back to the cabin. 

He took off his coat and was hanging it up when he realized he was not alone. 

Cas was on the couch, wrapped up like a burrito in at least three of the blankets that Dean had put on his bed, sipping on something in his bee-themed coffee mug.

His eyes were closed, his hair a mess and he looked beautiful.

That was what was going to kill Dean. How was one sick fucker so gorgeous? 

When he was sick, Dean looked sick. He looked like he was two steps away from death’s door. But Cas, even as sick as he was, looked wonderful.

Cas barely opened his bloodshot eyes when Dean bumped into the counter. 

“Thank you, Dean,” he said, and he raised his cup in Dean’s direction. How was it possible that one sick fucker’s voice could get him all hot and bothered?

There was a ladle on the counter next to the stove and some of the broth missing from the pot. Looks like Cas went for the broth instead of the coffee that was still in the coffee pot. Dean liked to drink two cups of coffee in the morning. Cas has been emptying the coffee carafe each morning and what he didn’t drink this morning was still in the pot. 

“You hungry?” 

“I could eat.” Cas said but he sounded rougher than usual. 

“Sore throat?”

Cas nodded. 

Dean grabbed the bag of potatoes and started to coarsely chop a couple of potatoes into another pot. He tossed in garlic, salt and butter in with the potatoes and poured enough milk to cover half of the potatoes. After bringing the potatoes to a boil, he let them cook while he shredded the cheddar and Gouda cheese.

Dean coarsely mashed the potatoes, checked for salt and added the shredded cheeses. Once the cheeses were melting into the potatoes, he scooped them into a bowl and took it to Cas. 

Cas had his eyes closed yet again so Dean coughed once to get his attention.

Cas squinted at him so Dean offered him the bowl of mashed potatoes and took the coffee cup from him. 

Dean went back to the kitchen with the cup and topped it off. He nearly gave himself whiplash when he heard the moan come from the couch. 

Dean was cautious as he neared the couch. 

“You okay, dude?” 

Blue eyes bored into his. 

Dean finally remembered the coffee cup in his hand when the blue eyes broke contact with his and ducked down as Cas got another helping of mashed potatoes on his spoon. 

“These make me happy,” he said just before he shoved the spoon into his mouth and moaned around his mouthful. 

Dean nearly dropped the coffee cup. He put it carefully on the side table next to Cas and nearly sprinted from the living room. 

Cas was definitely going to kill him.


End file.
